


Rebirth.

by acxnitum



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Romance, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, NSFW, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 08:16:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1543961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acxnitum/pseuds/acxnitum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the tragic night of November 14th, 2011, Aiden had fell at the sword of the Oni under the Nogitsune's control. With pain, strife and chaos all around him, Stiles Stilinski can't help but feel responsible as he visits the morgue to confirm the body of not only one, but two individuals to which he knew. Allison - skin pale and cold - finally looked at peace. And Aiden, who's beautifully sculpted face was covered with scratches, cold torso filled with bullet wounds that had barely healed - an the most prominent destruction: the stab wound where the sword had gone through. But the poison was long gone and out of his system - supernatural abilities no longer able to sustain him but just enough to pull him back; and it was before the zipper was pulled above his head that he did wake, gasping for his first breath of air as none other than what he feared the most: human. Aiden was reborn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rebirth.

Silence was golden; for so many years, he had craved the earnest sound of absolutely nothing. For so many years, the ringing that pounded behind his ears and traveled throughout his mind caused him so many restless nights, left laying awake, tossing and turning - hoping that one day it would all end. That the noise would stop - that he'd get his peace. That request and want seemed all too bittersweet now, impatiently wiggling the pencil in his hand as he stared towards the front of the room. He couldn't hear the sound of lead scribbling against the paper, couldn't hear the even breathing of the redhead beside him - he couldn't hear anything, and just barely the sound of the clock perched high on the wall above the door. 

_Tick, tick, tick._

Aiden wasn't sure how long he sat, blankly staring forward but before he knew it, Lydia had her textbook closed and turned to face him with a coy smile, hazel eyes shifting down to the neatly filled in page before him. Her face fell, perhaps out of disappointment - Aiden was not all she had pegged him to be, and he knew that. Aiden had long been done with being belittled, thought to be a fool and utterly stupid. This simply wasn't the case; Aiden was in fact more intelligent than he had led on. He wasn't necessarily like any normal teenager, no. Anyone person could've guessed that, especially within the last two weeks as his amazing resurrection and recovery in the hospital had officially dubbed him the town's biggest news: the boy who lived the 'drive by'.

He wasn't particularly proud of that statement, although he realized all too quickly that he had no choice but to use the story. Melissa had repeated it every morning - Sheriff Stilinski had come in to go over it, too. Eventually, visitors he believed never would have stepped foot into that hospital room were making daily drop in's; they brought him his homework, genuinely worried about his well-being and recovery. Admittedly, Aiden had wondered throughout his time in Room 323 if any one of those visitors actually cared about him, or if they were just curious. After all - Aiden was part of the reason why one of their pack members was dead. He had helped in the kidnapping. He had helped in the death of Boyd - Aiden was responsible for enough pain among the group of students who religiously tended to his wounds and laid comforting hands on his shoulders. 

Now that he was back in school, he realized that he didn't want anything more than to return home. Out of all the individuals he cared less to see, it was Lydia. He understood that she wasn't all that she made herself out to be - there were things she would keep to herself, thing's he would never know, nor understand. And he was fine with that - but what he would no longer tolerate was being pushed around. Aiden refused to take any more negative or snide comments thrown his way - he had once been not only a bad boy, but a bad guy. True, Aiden had spent numerous occasions mulling through the body count he had created over the years. He had killed less with Deucalion than with his former pack, and that is what he believed the other's failed to see. Deucalion was the least of their worries - and perhaps that was why he felt less guilt about killing Boyd than he should.

Because his former pack was brutal - they were vicious, feral, untamed; mass murderers with a vendetta and zero tolerance for stupidity - and their alpha had been the worst. Worse than Kali and her vengeance, worse than Ennis and his temper - worse than Deucalion as a whole. 

Aiden found it funny how he cared so little for the people who seemed to breathe softer when he was near, afraid _they_ might hurt _him_. He was human, not a house of cards. Eyebrow raised in question, his lips turned upwards at the corners as he peered at her, leaning forward onto the granite tabletop, "What? Surprised that I'm finished?"

"Finished before me." Lydia bit the end of her pen, musing over a thought before she puckered her lips and shrugged, "Not that it matters. Anyways - Stiles wants talk to you. Said something about his dad having some questions and that he was supposed to ask them - just meet him in the library after school. Shouldn't be too hard to find him; look for the boy with the plaid shirt."

Aiden bit back the snide comment that rose in his throat, offering a smile that failed miserably as he gathered his things, bag slung over his shoulder. _What now?_ He wondered, moving from his seat as the bell rang to dismiss them. Stiles had found on more than several occasions to pull Aiden from class, simply to 'talk' to him. He knew it was bogus - he knew the first time he was hauled from Ethan's first period math class that Stilinski had no real intentions on following up with him because of his father's orders. Not that Aiden minded in the slightest; he was more than happy to escape the lingering stares of his classmates, the hushed whispers and overly-friendly smiles. It was odd that he was treated as though he were some fragile being; he expected it from his brother - after years of providing and protecting Ethan, it was only fair that Ethan take on that role and step in to protect him. 

By the end of the day, exhausted washed over Aiden's frame, leaving him impatient and particularly grouchy as he wandered towards the library. Eyes scanned the sea of students who had stayed behind for extra help, he spotted Stiles hunched in the corner, nose deep in his textbook with a highlighter. When he reached him, Aiden noticed that most of the page was covered with the florescent yellow, but he merely smiled without uttering anything in relation to it. Dropping his bag to the floor, he pulled up a chair beside Stiles and rested his arms on the table, "So, you wanted to see me?"

Stiles held up a single finger to silence him, mouth forming words as he rehearsed silently to himself for a brief moment, then snapped the book shut and turned to Aiden with knowing look. "Yeah - my dad just wanted to know -"

"Cut the crap, Stiles." The words weren't necessarily sharp, but more as a means to move the conversation along to the real topic Stiles had wanted to discuss. Aiden had an idea, and it loomed over him like a dark cloud for his last two periods but he managed to move it far from his mind so he could focus as best as he could, although that proved to be difficult by the time the bell rang, signaling the end of the day. 

Stiles pursed his lips together tightly for a moment, staring hard at Aiden before he sighed and dropped his hands onto the table, "Alright, look. I wanted to talk to you about Saturday -"

"Do you regret it?"

Another pause, this time it was prolonged as Aiden watched the boy muse over his answer, eventually shaking his head with an exasperated sigh, "No, actually. As much as I'd like to think it wasn't right and as much as I'd like to say that it shouldn't happen again . . . I won't. Because I'm positive that I'd be lying to myself if I said that I didn't enjoy it."

It's with this comment that Aiden props himself up on his elbow, knuckles holding his head up at the temple as he smiled, eyebrow raised, "Oh, yeah?" It was so like Aiden to slip into old habits; so easy for him to momentarily forget about how vulnerable and weak he was now as a human, and how his mouth wouldn't get him very far. Biting back any over-sexualized comment, he opted for a genuine smile, "It was just a kiss, Stiles. It doesn't have to mean anything, alright?"

It was the boys reaction that surprised him; the sudden huff of impatience and frustration, "No - look, I want it to mean something. It was my first guy to guy experience, alright? Despite what you, your brother or anyone else may think, Scott and I have never experimented. Like, ever. Okay?" In a flourish, he leaned forward, voice dropping so that he wasn't heard by the leering students who stood by the shelf, observing the pair with close eyes, "I really didn't like you when your stupid face showed up the first time, alright? And I didn't like you when I found out you were shoving your tongue down Lydia's throat. I didn't like you when you assisted in impaling Boyd, and I still didn't like you even as you tried to weasel your way into Scott's good graces." Aiden leaned back in his chair, eyes lingering on the table; it was true, everyone in this school was treating him as though he would break and crumble away if they so much as said one thing out of line. Then there was Stiles Stilinski, who was so blatantly honest and crude and that somehow offered Aiden comfort - he was the only one who knew that even after having died and come back, he was a big boy. He could take care of himself. "But, you did redeem yourself. Despite what anyone else may think, you definitely were able to prove that you meant good - that this wasn't just about yourself, or your brother. And that's admirable - because I know what _they_ did to you, and I know that giving up any moral about survival was a big thing. But you're in the same boat as me now, Aiden. You're weak, vulnerable - susceptible to illness and disease, dying like the rest of us with old age - and I find that it's easier to forgive you." Eyes trailed up to meet Stiles', stomach lurching upward as the regret washed over him like a tsunami. "And that's why what happened means something to me. You didn't do it for good word, you didn't have an ulterior motive - you did it because it was in the moment, and it happened. And it was epic - and it doesn't have to be the last time it happens."

Aiden mulled over the idea for a moment, licking his lips before swallowing the ball of anxiety in his throat; unfortunately, with human resurrection came human traits. Anxiety that he had as a child over took him constantly and he began to realize that his vision was progressively getting worse - he just hoped that it wouldn't become too bad, for fear that he may end up back in glasses. Pulling in a deep breath, he filled his lungs with confidence, solely comforted by the gentle look of warmth the other had provided, "Alright. Then it won't be the last - but like you said, it was a spur of the moment kind of thing. How can you - or we - be so sure that this is what we want?"

"We don't," Stiles shrugged, hands moving to grab his books from the table as he stood, "But figuring it out is half the fun. So, come by my place later tonight. My dad's working late and you can help me out with my Bio like you promised." 

Aiden wanted to punch himself. Head falling onto the table with a sigh, comprehension falling over his body as he remembered the conversation that took place prior to that nights festivities: he had in fact offered to help Stiles with Biology - the problem was that Aiden wasn't necessarily any better at it than Stiles claimed to be. "Right - sure. No problem."

"Just message me when you get home." There was a short wave and brisk smile before Stiles turned on his heel and left the library. Aiden sat in the corner, surrounded by thousands upon thousands of pages that each told a story. Remarkably, he found in the past that each person could find a book that best represented them and their life - and Aiden was nearly positive that there wasn't a single story that told of a broken boy, damaged by abuse and neglect - finding himself and his meaning alongside an unlikely friend, and this friend happened to have lips softer than anything he had felt before, nervous hands and beautifully content sighs. 

He wasn't sure how long he remained there, seated in the plastic chair until the sun was nearly setting behind the building. He only realized the time difference when the phone in his pocket vibrated.
    
    
    Recieved Tuesday November 30th
    From: Mini Stilinski
    _Hey - you make it home okay?_

Aiden merely shook his head, running a hand over his face as packed his things and left the library, hastily replying before exiting the building to straddle his bike, smiling down at his phone.
    
    
    Sent Tuesday November 30th
    To: Mini Stilinski
    _Yeah. On my way, expect me within the next ten minutes._

Slamming the shield down on his helmet, he pumped the gas and sped out of the parking lot, wind enveloping him, welcoming him with open arms as excitement turned his stomach upside down, as he anxiously drew out any and all plausible outcomes of the night, satisfied with whatever may happen.


End file.
